


The Legend of Tobias

by Are_you_not_glad



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda AU, Mystery, fairly-graphic injury, spoilers for questline, vaguely-graphic smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Are_you_not_glad/pseuds/Are_you_not_glad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a human monk's lover starts to go mad, she must delve into worgen dens to give him absolution. But Duskwood is full of secrets, and once Pandora's box has been opened, it can't be shut....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi chaptered fic on this site! Please be gentle if I muck up the formatting. This is also on Fanfiction.net under the same name.
> 
> This is an mildly AU version of the Legend of Stalvan quest chain in Duskwood. Spoilers for said quest chain, obviously.
> 
> Some artistic license taken with the lore (chalk it down to AU). Don't like, don't read.
> 
> I don't own warcraft, Azeroth, Tobias or anything else. I do own Anyanda's character concept.

When I came to Duskwood, two years ago, I didn't think much of the place. I knew it was a historic human land, touched by darkness and undead, danger around every corner. It had a missing persons rate higher than Redridge, a death toll steeper than Westfall, and an undead presence rivalled only by that of the Plaguelands. Many Westfall transients fled the plains only to be devoured by the ghouls or the worgen or the tainted animals. Their bones marked the border even more thoroughly than the mountains or the river. My assignment officer told me to think of Elwynn forest in a bad dream. Bad posting for a guard, especially since not many were deployed out there. Bad enough to make me wonder who I'd pissed off among my higher ups. Probably someone in the SI7, sore over that Vanessa debacle in Westfall.

But I digress.

I didn't expect to remain in the territory for two whole years. I was an on call soldier, affectionately referred to as a Traveller. I was sent in when the problems were piling up in a settlement, but bringing in a full platoon was either impossible or impractical. I helped the local troops get their shit together, then got reassigned. I liked the arrangement. Sure, everyone expected everything of me, and it had been forever and a day since I had slept in a proper bed, but I enjoyed helping people. I wasn't much of a team player anyway, preferring to have my work go uninterrupted. And if it meant that no-one noticed the occasional magical pilgrimage to Pandaria, well, that was so much the better. I was forever meeting new people, doing new things. It beat standing outside an obsolete building come hail or shine twenty four seven. I don't envy Stormwind patrollers, marching around and waiting for the next raid.

I really didn't expect to find the love of my life in Darkshire.

Tobias Mistmantle his name was. Tall, blonde, handsome, and ever so proper. I met him while I was going around the houses-standard procedure, see if anyone needs 'unofficial' help. He politely declined, then offered me inside for a cup of tea. I eagerly accepted-the natural gloom of Duskwood unnerved me, still does as a matter of fact. We got to talking.

Tobias was from Gilneas, a once human nation that split off from the Alliance about two decades ago, barricading themselves behind a great wall. Tobias told me that he had moved from the city to human lands with his family, just before the nation seceded. He was very young then, but he still didn't think of himself as a Stormwind citizen. It was both curious and admirable how he could be homesick for a country he barely remembered. Both of us being outsiders in the hamlet, we hit it off straight away, meeting down at the Darkshire tavern every Sunday to have a drink and a chat.

Mutual camaraderie turned into open and honest friendship, turned into an intimate, if platonic, bond, turned into the two of us crossing the line into being lovers. We shared everything, did lots of things together. Tobias introduced me to Duskwood in a way no guide could, telling me the finest of details about every graveyard, every abandoned farm, every worgen camp. He seemed very sympathetic with the worgen-he told me that once, most of them were every bit as human as I was. Whenever we spoke of it, he had this very sad expression on his face, similar to people talking of zombified family members. I, on the other hand, told him of life in the Eastern Kingdoms, of all the places I'd been, all the faces I'd seen. He was very curious about the world-he told me that his parents may not have lived in Gilneas, but they still had a very isolationist attitude-Tobias hadn't travelled much.

When my business was concluded in Darkshire, I felt….reluctant to leave. I'd taken lovers in postings before, just casual affairs to blow off steam. Parting was always bittersweet, but this time it felt different. The idea of being apart from Tobias caused me actual, physical pain, like a cold constricting of my ribcage. I'd never been particularly close to anyone, not even another guard-it was hard to form emotional attachments in a job where you're constantly reminded of how fragile life really is. Tobias felt different. Tobias was my rock.

And so, I sacrificed my life as a Traveller for a position on the local force. My rank was frozen at Lieutenant, and I was responsible for every little hiccup in the running of the town. The Darkshire militia didn't know how to work with an outsider like me, so they heaped upon me the jobs labelled 'unrealistic' or suicidal' All this, so I wouldn't have to be parted from my loving, optimistic man. Tobias and I didn't speak much on the subject afterwards, but I'll tell you this-I've never regretted my decision.

A year was spent keeping my things in the guard barracks and sleeping in Tobias' cottage. After that year, he invited me to formally move in with him, an offer I eagerly accepted. Dashing down the hill from his cottage to the town hall, clutching my clothes to my chest at the early hours of the morning so no-one would see me in my nightgown got old after a while. Disparaging whispers spread in the village, as we never married or had kids. Like the status of my womb was any of their business!

And as for marriage….

One day, I found a wedding band hidden within his waistcoat. It was a simple thing, a delicate silverite band with a single diamond inlaid at the head. Tobias had a similar ring, a family heirloom, but that was ancient, with a chunkier band, and in any case, he wore it on his fingers. This ring was brand new-it must have cost him a fortune. I never pressed the issue, and he never said anything. But once in a while, I couldn't help but notice him staring at me with a wistful expression.

One day, after I had lived with him for a year, I came home-home, when did Darkshire become home?- to find Tobias pacing in front of the fire, an expression of tense concentration on his face.

"Something the matter, love?" I asked, removing my helm, weapons, and cloak. He looked up at me with an alarmed expression, as if I was the last person he expected to see at the door.

"Anyanda!" My eyebrows raised at that. He never called me by my full first name, not even when he lost his temper-which was extraordinarily rare. "I thought….never mind." He shook his head rapidly, as if dispelling a dark fog.

I removed my breastplate, gloves, and boots, so I was standing before him in only a tight fitting pair of leather trousers, and a well worn linen swallowed as I walked over and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders.

"Is something the matter?" I repeated, prompting him to speak of what bothered him so. Tobias was infuriatingly closed-off at times. It wasn't that he hid his feelings from me, not exactly. He just required a bit more coaxing to voice them. Touch had worked well, I'd found. A gentle kiss, or a roll in the sheets, or even as little as a soothing hand on his bicep. He sighed heavily and relaxed into my embrace.

"Did I ever tell you why I first came to Darkshire?" He murmured, like he was half-hoping I wouldn't hear him.

"For the sunny weather and delightful wildlife?" I jested. He huffed in laughter, and I could see the worry lines that crinkled his face visibly smoothen.

"I'm here because I received a letter from my brother Stalvan, who I haven't seen in years. On arriving here, I was told he was dead…." His hands balled into fists and his hazel eyes screwed shut. I recognised too well the posture of a man repressing waves of grief, and tightened my hold on him for a split second.

"The entire town refuses to offer any further explanation. Any mention of his name is met with terror and suspicion." He grimaced disdainfully, and pulled away from me. "As if I didn't have enough of that myself!" He spat out, throwing one arm in the air, frustratedly.

I had never seen this side of him, this bitter, angry persona-I was speechless. He was usually so optimistic, always looking on the bright side of life. What pressures did he hide behind the smile? What was it that he couldn't share with me?

He took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, attempting to calm himself.

"I'm afraid of what will happen if my frustration and anger grows any further. You-" His voice was small, broken, defeated. "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." He looked into my face, desperately. His face, his posture reminded me of a street urchin I'd met in Northshire, pleading with me to free them from an abusive parent, their very last hope. "I beg you, help me get to the bottom of this. Implore Clerk Daltry for any information he may have on my brother-he's more likely to speak to you than he would to me."

I surged forwards to hug him before he could protest.

"It's gonna be okay." I whispered, reaching upwards to gently stroke his blonde hair, remembering how Mistress Nora would comfort me after a nightmare. "I'll talk to Daltry-say it's for an investigation or something. It's gonna be okay."

Tobias wrapped me in a near bone-crushing hug, his face pressed into my hair.

"Thank you." He whispered. "Thank you. Whatever I did to deserve you, it wasn't enough."

It was only when I stepped outside and felt the moisture in my hair that I realised he had been crying.


	2. The Stolen Letters

After two years, walking through Darkshire was still depressing. The people there had a perpetually gloomy countenance, spending their lives waiting for the next great disaster. Several building were abandoned-they were either burned out husks, splattered with the blood of their former owners, or just neatly left and locked up, the denizens having packed up and left. Commander Ebonlocke told me that things had gotten better since I had shown up, which just tells you how miserable these people were.

Clerk Daltry was in his usual position, hovering within the entrance of the town hall. Skittish young man, hyperaware of the previous Clerk's….fate. Never done a hard day's work in his life, and rarely ventured outside of the town. He kept detailed records of the town and its history, and had been invaluable to me when the locals were feeling unreticent.

"Ah, Lieutenant!" He greeted me with a forced smile as I hung my cloak by the doors. "So good to see you again! Can I help you?"

"Yes, Daltry. I'm enquiring about the whereabouts of someone who used to live around here….ever heard of one Stalvan Mistmantle?" I kept my back straight, my tone even and brisk. People tend not to lie to consummate professionals, especially if they happen to be guards.

The effect on Daltry was immediate. His fake smile fell in a heartbeat, shoulders suddenly going limp.

"Tobias put you up to this, didn't he?" His tone was unaccusing, but full of dread. "You want to know about Stalvan…."

"Don't you lie to me Daltry." I warned. "I know you know, you know about everyone here. Just cooperate with me on this and everyone comes out okay. Okay?"

He pushed his half-moon spectacles up his nose-a nervous tic, I'd observed.

"You're not the first, you know. We get outsiders coming through asking about him every so often. Always outsiders. Everyone who lives here knows better." I tilted my head, curiously, but he hurriedly ploughed on, regardless. "You're out of luck, anyway. I'm missing half the archives. Feral worgen broke into the town hall not a few nights ago and tore the place to shreds." My eyes widened in surprise.

"They did what?" I yelped. "Why did no-one tell me?" He pushed his spectacles up his nose again.

"The Commander said that the town defenses weren't your problem-that if some insane wolf men get past the guards, it's their problem, not yours." He said, tersely, obviously fearing my wrath.

"Damn her!" I barked, angrily. Two years working together, and I was still some meddling Traveller in her eyes!

"The documents you'll want are probably strewn all across Brightwood Grove by now, deep in the woods to the west. Not worth it if you ask me." He babbled, in a 'I want this conversation to end now' tone.

"No, it's-thank you, you've been very helpful, as usual." I'd deal with Ebonlocke later.

Brightwood Grove, huh?

It was a worgen camp/den/whatever you called it. Positively infested with the creatures. Not a very smart breed though, little different than dire wolves. I'd ventured that far afield while culling spider and wolf populations, seen the worgen darting about in the distance. The militia took a very 'eye for an eye' approach about worgen, so I'd had little opportunity to travel into the camps. Even so, the Grove was the nearest den to the town, and most worgen raids originated from there. It was the place that mothers frightened errant children with, told them that if they misbehaved, they would be dragged there in the night and devoured. Or they would, if it wasn't a terrifying reality.

Worgen aren't as hard to fight as people think. Put silver caps on each end of your staff, aim for the mouth, arms, and legs, finish them off with a knife through the throat. Yes, silver really works. I'd had a few skirmishes with the wolf men in my career. The mechanics of battle weren't that difficult, especially for the mindless grunts in the Grove. It was only when they got intelligent that things got….interesting.

*****

Fighting through the worgen camp, watching the ground for any paper kept me on my toes. I was a touch rusty, slower to adapt to a creature that fought like a wolf but thought like a human. I was at the back of the camp, near some sloppily erected tents. They were poorly constructed, and the leather canvases didn't look even remotely tanned. I could've sworn one of them was made out of human skin. Then I saw them-a stack of slashed papers, firelight flickering across them from a nearby bonfire, material fluttering in the breeze. I swooped down to pick them up, then whistled for my horse, a black palomino named Beam. He cantered over the path of dead worgen I had left behind, and I swung myself onto his back.

"Take us back home, Beam!" I yelled, snapping his reins.

As he galloped, I read the papers I'd recovered.

To the Honorable Headmaster Crillian,

My former Master, I write to you so that you might know what your apprentice has been doing of late. Paying heed to your advice, I sought to build my knowledge and wisdom through travel outside the gates of our beloved Stormwind. My journeys took me to many places but I have decided to take up residence here in the lovely town of Moonbrook. The surrounding fields of Westfall are most beautiful as the harvest approaches.

Within just a few days of my visit I found myself tutoring the local children from the nearby farmlands. The lessons went so well that the town mayor commissioned me to run a school and construction has begun on a brand new schoolhouse! From Silverpine to Stormwind and now Moonbrook - who would have guessed I would see so much of Azeroth!

Warm regards,

Stalvan Mistmantle

Dear Noble Sir,

Word of your need for a tutor for your children has traveled to me here in Goldshire, where I take up temporary residence in the Lion's Pride Inn. Due to the unfortunate state of events in the region, I was forced to abandon my post as Headmaster of the Moonbrook Schoolhouse. Please, accept my application to serve as tutor for your offspring. Headmaster Crillian of the Academy can speak to you of my abilities if necessary.

I shall travel to meet you in person, when the winter rains subside and the roads are suitable for travel once again.

Until then,

Stalvan Mistmantle of Silverpine

They must have been letters sent by Tobias' brother. I should have known someone so dear to his heart would be a scholar. Interesting, but it didn't tell me much. Maybe he took up a position teaching in Duskwood, where he met his fate? I needed more information-there must have been other letters.

There was something else that was interesting. Tobias told me that he'd grown up in Elwynn Forest. So why did Stalvan think himself as being 'of Silverpine'? It could have been an attachment to his birthplace, but why didn't it say 'of Gilneas'? I shrugged it off and resolved to ask Tobias when I got the chance.


	3. The Eye of the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a vaguely-descriptive rendition of sexytimes. Cover your eyes, kids!

It was late at night when I got back to town, but Daltry was in the town hall entrance, as usual. I stabled Beam near the blacksmith, nodded in formal greeting at Commander Ebonlocke, and clambered up the stairs to the hall. Tobias was there, arguing heatedly with Daltry. My lover looked positively haggard, hair ruffled like a madman, waistcoat askew and misbuttoned, handsome face gaunt, pale, and creased with deep worry lines. He looked like the black death had warmed over. Daltry looked small and scared, just like always.

I walked over, quiet as a mouse, and put one hand on Tobias' shoulder. His face whipped around, teeth bared in a feral snarl. Wild eyes darted over my face, and animal rage gave way to crushing shame. He bowed his head submissively, blonde hair obscuring his face.

"It's gonna be okay." I murmured, raising a hand to curl gently in his hair, and gradually leaning forwards to lay a slow, open-mouthed kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you back at home. Okay?"

He nodded slowly, and mouthed 'I'm sorry'. Then he left.

Daltry pretended to ignore this display of comfort and affection, and said, "Look, ma'am, I really don't want any trouble…" He pushed his spectacles up his nose, haltingly.

"I got what you directed me to, Daltry." I said wearily, holding up the slashed papers. He took them from me in shaking fingers, staring at them as if they would disappear at any given moment.

"By the light... you actually went and got it?" He whispered, reverently, like I'd given him a an ancient, sacred, holy text. He then snapped out of his daze with a rapid shake of his head, and looked up at my face. "I'm shocked. I suppose I owe you thanks for returning it to the archives." I smirked, trying to mask the exhaustion creeping over me with humour.

"When do I ever disappoint?" He tried a shaky smile in response.

"If you're that serious about this, I'll help you, Lieutenant-nothing stops you when you're dead-set, I know that by now. I know where the other documents must be. I'm just too terrified to do anything about it."

Daltry spread out a map of Duskwood on a nearby table, and both of us bent over it. He tapped a pencil, that he had seemingly conjured from nowhere, on the icon indicating a small farm, huddling against the mountains.

"There's only a few places that those horrible Nightbane beasts gather when they're not prowling the forest. One of them's the Rotting Orchard to the south."

"That's near the old Yorgen farmstead, isn't it?" I interrupted him, pointing at the icon. He nodded, pushing his spectacles up his nose.

"They use the buildings there as their dens, so if they haven't just eaten the other documents, you might find one there... but you'll have to search their lairs thoroughly, I wager." I shrugged, dismissively, but an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.

"I'll head out there tomorrow." He smiled.

"That's probably best. Put it off as long as you can, eh? Ah-ah, thank you. About earlier. The archives! I mean, not your….gentle….polite, boyfriend." I smiled, looking down at my feet.

"I'll talk to him Daltry, don't you worry." He breathed a genuine sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

****

When I got back to the cottage, Tobias wasn't pacing as I'd expected. He was sitting in an armchair by the fire, drinking tea, and fidgeting like a madman. He was staring into the flames with haunted, hunted expression on his face.

"This is really taking its toll on you, isn't it?" I asked sympathetically, disarming myself by the door.

Tobias' head jerked upwards, eyes wide.

"Anya!" He stood hurriedly, upending his tea. The china cup shattered on the floor, spilling lukewarm tea everywhere.

"Tobias!" I scolded, snatching a cloth from the kitchen, and lunging to my knees at his feet. I wiped at the sweet liquid in brisk, circular motions. "Light, Tobias, could you be any more clumsy?"

There was a soft thunk as he dropped to the floor beside me, and tried to gather up the shards of porcelain in his bare hands. He was apologising over and over again, low platitudes. I swatted at his fingers.

"Don't do that, you'll cut…." His hands stilled, and I looked up to find him gazing intensely at me, like a drowning sailor seeing dry land for the first time. "Yourself…."

We crashed together as waves on a beach, lips tasting hungrily, hands searching manically for hair, shoulder, waist. He kissed me as if he'd never see me again, as if the shining of the sun itself depended upon how much of my mouth he explored. Inquisitive tongues lapped at feverish lips, until they parted to allow access. In that moment, there was no Tobias, there was no Anyanda-we were one entity, united by passion and fear.

I crawled up his body, uncaring of the china and the tea, until I was straddled across his hips. I sat myself in his lap, pushing him back until he was laid out on the floor and I was splayed over him. I ground myself firmly into his crotch, securing my hands at his waist. He groaned into my mouth, hands hovering above my rear, before securing me firmly against him.

I trapped his lower lip between my teeth, and gently pulled back, until he could see my face. He groaned again, low and rumbling in the depths of his chest. Then, I released the kiss-swollen flesh with a near obscene pop.

"We, ah. We should take this to a bed." I said, seductively. He could only nod, eyes glazed over slightly.

I started to rise, but powerful hands encircled my waist and flipped my body until he was looming over me. His eyes were predatory, but a good humoured smirk graced his lips. He pressed our bodies flush against each other, leaving not a centimetre of space between us. A shocked gasp turned into a delighted laugh, turned into pleasured moans that were renewed long into the night.

We did make it to the bed-eventually. And as we both lay there, sweat slicked and sated in the sheets, I rolled over to lie half on his chest and played with the thick hair there.

"So then, how was your day." I teased, smoothing the blond curls over a muscle. He laughed, and, I noted with satisfaction, the rosy colour had been brought back to his face, the worry lines disappearing. He looked years younger, happier, carefree.

"It's miles better now." He said, tenderly, and gathered me into his arms, my face crushed against his chest.

I had questions and news for him. But I couldn't bear to let the darkness encroach on this perfect, bright moment, secure in each other's embrace.


	4. In a Dark Corner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be a touch of swearing and violence, but nothing too bad.

I left early the next morning-I had a day off anyway, and worgen tend to be less powerful during the daytime. It should have irked me to spend my free time in a life and death battle, but it….didn't, for some reason. It was for Tobias, and that meant it was well worth my time.

My lover was still fast asleep when I rose. He was adorable, curled in on himself in the sheets. As soon as I extricated myself from his embrace, a grimace marred his sleep-relaxed face, and one of his hands searched for me. I smoothed the ancient quilt over his shoulders and he let out a long sigh. I wrote him a note, before departing. I couldn't resist one last kiss on his forehead before I left though.

*****

"Son of a bitch!" I shouted as I hit the floor. I'd been focusing on one wolf man, while another completely blindsided me. A powerful swipe of claws that I'd barely been able to dodge sent my slight frame flying. Now two werewolves were stalking up on me, saliva dripping from open jaws.

I elected to play dead, remaining completely motionless on the floor, as one of them lunged for me with razor sharp fangs. I gripped my staff and swung it full force into the creature's face. It howled with rage and pain as I scythed my foot upwards to crush its skull. The second one howled and ran at me as I leapt to my feet. I summoned up my will and jabbed it square between the eyes with two fingers. The worgen's body was shrouded in darkness as negative karma tore it to pieces.

I sighed, wiping the perspiration and blood off my forehead with the back of a gloved hand. My feet crunched on the dry and rotting straw that carpeted the barn. In the corner I found what I was looking for-a battered, leather-bound journal. It was in bad condition, torn and stained, but I could make out the words S. Mistmantle inside the front cover. Flipping through, I found two legible passages.

Giles, the boy, seems a bit rambunctious and will be a challenge to educate. However the elder daughter, Tilloa, seems exceptionally smart. I couldn't help but to notice her captivating beauty as well. She is on the cusp of womanhood now. Supposedly the Lord has arranged her marriage for next year. But I digress. This week I will accompany the family to their summer cottage near the Eastvale Logging Camp in Elwynn, close to the Red Ridge Mountains. I hope to write more while there.

most strange and uncontrollable feeling. Never have I felt the way I did today. Whilst assisting Giles with his history lesson, Tilloa was outside tending to the flower garden. After a few minutes she came inside and placed a scarlet begonia in my open palm and smiled at me in such a way that my heart felt as though it was trembling within my chest. . . .

Now that was very interesting. A forbidden love between a teacher and a student huh? Come to think of it, I had heard of a Tiloa and a Giles. While I was flipping through the town obituaries while bored once, I spotted the two names, next to each other, on the same date as their parents and servants. Had Stalvan shared their fate? If so, why was he not also recorded? I couldn't ask Daltry-he recorded the names and dates of death, but he conveniently 'forgot' to add the circumstances.

There must have been more, I just needed to keep looking.

*****

"You're back in one piece I see." Daltry said as means of greeting as I walked into the town hall and handed him the journal. "This was all you found? That's bad news I'm afraid. This isn't all of it…."

"How so? There's more, right?" There had to be more, these torrid little tidbits couldn't help Tobias, that I knew. They'd only make things worse, judging by how I was just as eager to see how the story ended.

Daltry shook his head sadly.

"You should let it go, Andya. The only place left to look is Roland's Doom. That's the mine south of town, and the largest lair of worgen in Duskwood."

"Roland's Doom?" I repeated, incredulously. "Are you kidding me? That's the place with the worgen casters?"

Roland's Doom was the stuff of nightmares, even by my standards. Not only were the worgen there nearly human in their intelligence, oh no. They were warlocks, able to bend shadows to their will. I hated fighting casters, worgen or no. I just never knew what to expect, a fireball up the nose, or an ice spear in the arse. It was a mystery, and I hate mysteries while fighting.

While I contemplated my upcoming death, Daltry kept talking.

"Nobody in Darkshire has ever made it back from that place alive. In fact, some of the records I have here imply that's where the monsters first came from... who knows what evil's lurking in there? Please, Lieutenant, just give it up. Let's just forget about this whole thing, and never speak of it again."

I shook my head.

"Daltry, you should know as well as anyone that I can't and won't do that…." Daltry suddenly went as pale as a sheet, eyes fixating on a spot over my shoulder and I turned around.

"Roland's Doom? Are you completely deprived of your senses!?" Tobias was standing the the doorway with a furious expression on his face.

"Tobias, look-" I threw my hands up trying to explain. He didn't even acknowledge me, stalking forwards.

"You damn clerk." He snarled, staring Daltry down like a feral wolf after a cornered deer. "Are you trying to get her killed?"

"Tobias, stop." I ordered, putting on my best, no nonsense, military commander voice. Tobias usually couldn't ignore that. He ignored it, bridling against my outstretched arms. Daltry backed into the corner, trembling like a leaf in a storm.

"You're trying to kill her, arent you?! Take her away from me!"

I stepped in front of him, both hands on his torso now.

"Tobias, you stop this right now." I grabbed his chin and forced his head down to look at me. Our gaze locked for a few moments, my determined blue against his enraged brown.

It was the wrong thing to do.

He pushed past me with a roar of, "I'll tear you limb from limb, you bastard!"

Daltry squealed like a pig and leapt to the side as Tobias' fist shattered part of a bookshelf next to his head. I near leapt onto my deranged lover's shoulders, gripping him near the neck, and bearing him into the wall. I caught his forearms in a vice grip and attempted to twist them into the small of his back, folded over each other.

"Tobias, what's gotten into-ah!"

He twisted with remarkable strength, knocking me off my guard and causing me to stumble backwards and onto my arse. Tobias charged into the next room of the town hall where Daltry had long fled to.

"You can't take her! She's mine!" He howled, territorially.

"I'm not 'yours'! I'm not anybody's!" I cried out indignantly, jumping to my feet.

The effect was immediate. Tobias stilled and turned to face me. Shock and hurt was obvious in his eyes-anyone could see where his mind had gone.

I could have done one of two things at this point.

I could have gone down the romantic novel route, given a heartstring twanging speech about how I loved him, but was my own woman. Or I could have done something productive, and stopped him before he turned into a murderer.

I went with the latter.

I ran forwards, staff twirling into my palm, and whacked him in the forehead. He blinked, stumbled backwards a few steps, then collapsed like a felled oak tree.

I fell to my knees beside him, hands hovering over his prone form. His chest rose and fell steadily, and his pulse seemed normal.

"What the blue bloody hell is going on in here?" Commander Ebonlocke burst through the door, suspicious eyes darting from me, to my sleeping lover, to Daltry's cowering form.

"Just a domestic dispute." I smiled through gritted teeth. "Have no fear-I'll sort it out."

It was with a sinking feeling in my stomach that I realised exactly how untrue this was.

*****

When Tobias awoke in his-our-bed, I was bustling around the cottage, bristling with furious energy. I felt his eyes on my back as I gave the dishes a more vicious scrub than they'd ever received.

Neither of us spoke. Eventually my frustration rose to a fever pitch, and I whirled around. Tobias had opened his mouth to speak, but obviously thought better of it upon seeing my face.

"What. The hell. Was that?" I hissed. I talked forwards, one finger wagging at his chest. "What you did today was completely out of line. You don't want me to go to Roland's Doom? Fine. That's perfectly fucking reasonable. You know what we do then? We talk about it like adults."

I raised a hand to grip a handful of my fringe in a fist. Tobias looked meek and ashamed, much like a dog or a child in the midst of a scolding. He didn't even try to defend himself, he just faced my wrath head on.

God, I loved him.

But I was still angry, and he needed to know that.

"And what did you do? Trash the town hall? Try to fucking murder Daltry?" He flinched as if I'd struck him at the last sentence. "What the hell, Mistmantle? What the hell is wrong with you?"

He took a deep breath, and for a moment I thought he was about to justify his actions, but he only averted his gaze, staring at the faded bedspread. His eyes closed, and he took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry." He said, sounding like a despondent child. "I am so, incredibly sorry for this-for all of this. And-" He swallowed heavily. "And if you want to move out I'd understand."

I thought that I was going to yank a fistful of hair from my skull.

"I don't want to move out, you very stupid man." I hissed, exasperated. "I want to know what the hell is going on with you!"

"I have….issues." I snorted.

"Yeah, I'd guessed." Tobias raised a hand to halt me. He took another deep breath.

"There's always this….rage, hiding beneath the skin. I'm a very angry man, Anya, and very good at hiding it."

"Bullshit." I said, without venom. "You're the calmest man I've ever met."

He laughed.

"Appearances are deceiving, love. I've been getting better and better at controlling the-fury. But this business with Stalvan;the uncertainty, the frustration." He shuddered. "I've let the anger get out of hand. You're right-what I did was completely out of line. I know you're capable, and I know you don't need protecting. But….I guess I was looking for something to lash out at, and Daltry was a perfect target. Light take me….If you hadn't been there…." Tobias curled up and choked on a sob.

I approached the bed, dropping to one knee in front of my despondent lover.

"Look at me." I said gently. He wouldn't meet my eyes. "Tobias, look at me." I took his chin in my fingers and forced him to stare me in the face. His hazel gaze was haunted.

I kissed him softly, a languid meeting of tongues and lips. We parted after an all-too-brief moment with a tiny pop.

"I'll go to Roland's Doom in your stead." He pledged. "It was wrong of me to have you take on my burden, lover or no. I'll take it from here."

"Silly man." I breathed. "You should know by now it's no bother."

Our lips met once again, and scarcely parted until morning.


	5. Roland's Doom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a bit gory. Sorry about that.

I say morning. What I actually mean is little past midnight. Once Tobias was asleep, I dressed quickly and quietly, arming myself for Roland's Doom. Under any other circumstance, I would have been glad to let Tobias handle his own business as he pleased.

But this was the worgen we were talking about and, outburst aside, Tobias had never struck me as much of a combatant. I knew the worgen, knew what they did to any unfortunate victim who couldn't defend themselves. I was not about to lose Tobias to those monsters, even if I had to break his trust to keep him safe.

I left a note on the bedside table to tell him where I was going before I set off. I couldn't begrudge him if he was pissed off when I came back.

If I came back.

*****

A mawful of fangs snapped inches away from my face, fangs that could turn me into a monster with just one bite, fangs that might have already done so. I thought that fighting my way into the depths of the mine had been hard? Warlock werewolves had nothing on their Brood Mother.

I kicked her off me with powerful legs, sending her flying across the shaft. She recovered before she even landed, twisting deftly to crouch on all fours. I scrambled to my feet and she growled menacingly, saliva dripping from her mouth.

With a blood curdling howl, the Brood Mother leapt at me, claws scything through the air. The heel of my palm arced up to hit her square in the face, but one of her hands snapped round to scratch deep gouges into my forearm.

I couldn't help but cry out in shock and pain as something rigid and furry slammed into my spine. I hit the floor, a victorious worgen grunt pressing my cheek into the ground. The Brood Mother howled delightedly, and joined him in pinning me to the floor. I was roughly turned, and barely flung up my arm to defend myself from a set of biting teeth. My leather bracer absorbed most of the bone-crushing blow, but the edges of razor-sharp canines dug into my arm.

Ragged nails clawed at my tunic and chestguard, ripping buckles to expose the skin beneath. I struggled with the steadily increasing pressure on my arm, eyes locked with the worgen grunt. He was sitting on my legs, preventing me from drawing them up to dislodge the presence at my stomach.

I screamed harder than I ever had in my life when claws dug into the centre of my stomach and started pulling. I thrashed in abject agony as teeth descended on my toned belly, tearing the muscle apart to get to the delicate organs beneath.

She's going to disembowel me. I remember thinking, horror struck, as I heard the sickening crack of one of my ribs.

Suddenly, a wave of Kal'dorei magic washed over the cavern, knocking back the worgen with disgruntled snarls. It washed over me, familiar and soothing in its wildness. My wounds ceased bleeding, and I leapt to my feet, lunging at the stunned worgen. Swift blows of my staff dealt the killing blows, and the vile creatures breathed their lasts.

I looked around, a cold sweat breaking on my forehead, for the source of my saviour. To my surprise, an ethereal night elf woman stood above a mound of loose soil. I could see through her to the railing behind. She gestured silently to a few loose papers, before bowing deeply and faded from my sight.

I didn't waste time questioning it, instead leaping forwards to snatch the muddy journal pages, and sprinted out of the mine, one hand clutching at my open stomach cavity, before blood loss could overwhelm me.

*****

"Come back." I drifted in limbo, floating on a soothing pool of icy black. I was at peace.

"Come back." My brows furrowed. A throaty, begging sob broke through the calm place, imploring with me to leave.

"Please….come back." I recognised the voice;it belonged to someone important. Someone I loved?

"I'll do anything. I swear to you, I'll do anything. But please, please come back." Tobias?

Tobias!

I broke out of the calm place, like emerging from a deep body of water. My eyes flickered open, and focused on the ceiling of our cottage. I attempted to sit up, but I cried out as pain shot through every joint of my body.

"Anya!" I turned my head and smiled weakly at Tobias, who was sat at the bedside. He looked positively gaunt, salt water stains on his cheeks, disheveled clothes, rumpled hair, and a few days worth of stubble. His hands flew up to hover uncertainly over me;his eyes were open as if he could scarcely believe what he was seeing.

"Morning, lover boy." I joked, smirking at him. "How long was I out?" He blinked at me a few times, before jerking suddenly, as if his mind had caught up with his ears.

"Ah-you've been out for a week. You-" He swallowed heavily. "The afternoon after you left, you came riding into town on Beam's back. You were out cold and badly injured. Madame Eva told some men to bring you here. She patched you up, and told me to let you rest." He swallowed heavily, and gingerly ghosted the quilt down. I was naked beneath, but for fresh bandages. His hands traced the edge of a heavily bound area on my stomach. "I thought you were dead." Tobias sobbed, heavy tears trailing down his face.

I placed a hand on his cheek, and drew him down so our foreheads were touching. He sighed, and his warm breath washed over me.

"I'm sorry." I murmured. "I'm sorry for getting hurt, and I'm sorry for scaring you, and I'm sorry for going behind your back with this-"

He lunged forward and kissed me, taking my mouth with desperate fervour.

"Don't apologise." He whispered. "Never, ever apologise."

Legend

Daltry came to visit several days later, when Madam Eva-the town's resident wise woman-declared me fit for anything more strenuous than lying in bed and being fussed over by Tobias. He came into the house carefully, head in front of his body, much like a rat investigates a strange new room. He gave Tobias, who was innocuously leaning against the kitchen table, a fearful look, before sitting on the wicker chair beside the bed.

"You, ah, you wanted to see me Lieutenant?" He pushed his spectacles up his nose-the poor man was shaking so hard that he practically vibrated.

I said nothing, just reached into the bedside table and retrieved my pack from Roland's doom. It was splattered with my blood and worse fluids.

"I told you Anyanda, it's not worth pursuing-" He started, just as I retrieved the papers I found in the mine and held them to the light. Neither Tobias nor myself had read it-too busy, too preoccupied with cherishing each other's company to dwell too hard on the past. But it was high time to put the business behind us-not a night had been spent in nightmare less sleep for both of us.

"You actually went and got it?!" Daltry squeaked, shock, horror, and delight passing over his pale face. "I don't know whether to call you brave or insane. But once again, my archives thank you."

He took them from me, cradling the pages with the utmost care, like a newborn infant.

"You've recovered everything." He said, looking into the flickering hearth for a moment. "Everything except the last page...which I've got right here." I saw Tobias stiffen out of the corner of my eye, and tensed myself.

"Don't look at me like that." Daltry said, uncharacteristically defensive. "You'll understand when you read it. Some even say it's cursed, you know. In fact, I was relieved when the worgen broke in and made off with these!"

He thrust the satchel he wore at his hip onto the foot of the bed, and I heard a protesting ruffle of paper. "Take it. Take all of it, in fact. I thank you for recovering my archives, but I don't want anything to do with this ever again. Please, just leave me be." He got up from the chair and nearly fled from the house, retreating into the night air.

Tobias carefully shut the door behind the man as I assembled the last few papers.

"This is the moment of truth, Tobias." I warned him. "Once you open Pandora's box, and so on."

"I know this." There was a haunted cast to his face. "But I must know."

I shuffled over so he could slip next to me between the sheets. Together, we read the papers.

. . .most certain that she shares the same feelings for me now. She even placed her hand on mine this morning. When she smiles, her eyes light up like glittering diamonds. Unspoken words pass between us. I can feel her in my pounding heart and heated veins

"How old was this girl again? Ew." I looked to Tobias, who didn't respond, but whose own face was twisted in an expression of disgust. We read on.

. . .anger and fury the likes of which I never knew existed! How dare she. As I was instructing Giles in the meaning of numbers, Tilloa appears before me with a suitor, holding hands in public nonetheless! What an uncouth young man. Rather than introduce me properly, Tilloa simply said, "Oh that's just my tutor, Uncle Stalvan. He's a nice old man." Old! At that word my cheeks flushed with heat. I am but a few years older and yet she betrays. . .downward spiral of despair. First she mocks me and now she is engaged. The ungracious charlatan was pretending to love when truly she desired to hurt me all along. A black void lurks within me now and it grows with each waking moment. The blood I shall spill pales in comparison to the tears I have shed. . .

At the final few words, Tobias drew his knees up to his chest, and buried his head in them. I put my hand on his shoulder, stroking gently.

"This is all of it?" He asked, muffled.

"That's what Daltry said." I replied, as gently as I could.

Tobias turned his head to look at the fire. I could see the dried tears on his cheeks and they almost broke my heart.


	6. Digging Deeper

"I can't thank you enough…" He said after a while. "I had hoped for this to be a joyous reunion, but the more I learn, the less glad I am to have asked." His fists clenched powerfully. "But I must know. Light help me, gaining these papers almost killed the woman I love, I must know!" His sudden, hoarse shout surprised me, but I didn't flinch. Instead, I wrapped my arms around him and rocked back and forth, like I was consoling a child.

"This can't be. My brother was strong-willed, but such vileness... such sickness and violent, bloody evil…" He choked out these words as he turned his head to face me. Tears were coming thick and fast now. He covered his face with his hands, eyes darting away from my unwavering gaze. "I must have answers. I need to know how I got that letter. I need to know if Stalvan really did this. I need to know why…"

"Petal, it's okay…." I tried to start, but he cut me off.

"Take my ring, Andya. Bring it to Madame Eva." He pushed the ancient, thick silverite band he never took off into my palm. The surface was marred with nicks and scratches, all but obscuring the etched script within it. "That woman is a follower of old arts and makes no secret of it... call it madness, but I'll try anything at this point."

"Come with me, then?" I asked, pulling on his hand. "I'm sick of doing this alone, and it'd be nice to have someone carry me if I pass out. I promise, no forays into worgen dens."

"I would follow you into the Maelstrom, dearheart." He swore, leaning down to kiss me.

*****

Madam Eva's house was right at the outskirts of the town, directly downhill from where Tobias and myself lived-not too convenient when I was limping home after being injured. As we walked, the citizens of the town showed their concern for me in the traditional Duskwood fashion:peeking fearfully out of their windows. After seeing a haggard looking mother usher her children inside as we passed, I commented idly,

"They think I'm going to turn, don't they?"

Tobias looked at me briefly, then looked away.

"Yes." He admitted. My fists clenched. "Madam Eva swore up and down that you weren't infected, but….rumour is rumour."

"Would you kill me?" His head jerked sharply at that, eyes widening with shock. I tried not to meet them, lost in my own thoughts. To become one of those beasts, to lose everything that I was, everything that I might be….turning into a monster before Tobias' very eyes, a feral wolf that hungered for his flesh…. "If I turned. Would you kill me?"

His face was agonised. "Don't say that." He whispered. "Don't ask that of me, Anya, please-"

He was cut off by Madam Eva. She was waiting in the doorframe of her house expectantly, the dark billows of her dress flowing out behind her. Her face was wrinkled and ancient, but her aquamarine eyes shone with something youthful and all-knowing.

"What dark whispers guide you to my door, Lieutenant?" She crooned. "And with the young Mistmantle in tow, to boot." Ever the gentleman, Tobias bowed deeply.

"So polite! I assume this isn't a social call, my dearies."

I exchanged a look with Tobias. Then, I withdrew the ring from my pocket and presented it to her.

"We've hit a dead end in our hunt for Stalvan. We were thinking that this ring could tell you something."

She took the band and turned it over in gnarled fingers. She twisted it this way and that, squinted to see the inscription set in it, held it up to the sun that, although present, never seemed to shine on Darkshire. Her face was set in one of intense curiosity and concentration.

"How interesting." She muttered beneath her breath. "It's been quite a while since I've seen such a ring…" Her eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment and she nodded, as if answering an unknown question.

After a few moments, she blinked, recognition returning to her face. She gave the ring back to Tobias who turned it over in his fingers anxiously.

"I'm afraid I cannot give Tobias the answers he seeks. But I can help you find the only person who can…" She trailed off for effect, eyes widening into a caricature of drama. "Stalvan Mistmantle."

"Stalvan? So he's alive!" Tobias barked with surprise, his face lighting up with hope and joy, the shadows all but fled for a brief, shining moment. They returned again when Madam Eva shook her head sympathetically.

"I didn't say that, my child. But the dead tell many tales, especially in a cursed land such as this. Take the ring into the woods to the east, to Manor Mistmantle, where Stalvan's body was buried. Enter, and hold the ring before you. Let the waning moon pour its light through the ring, and the spirits will answer your call."

"Seriously? You're not just being melodramatic?" I prompted, skeptical.

She reached over and swatted at the back of my head with surprising strength for fingers that looked like dried twigs.

"Don't patronise me, child." She chastised, offended. "Exhaustion and near-death experiences are no reason to be rude to one's elders. Her face took a deathly solemn cast. "Take heed, Andya. The questions of the living can offer more comfort than the answers of the dead."

*****

"Manor Mistmantle." I mused as we took the path eastward out of time. "Your family home?" Tobias looked away, and it almost looked like guilt flitted over his face before a curtain of hair covered it.

"Yes." He said, voice curt. "It's near Beggar's Haunt." I put my hand on his shoulder, consolingly.

"Bad memories?" He shook me off, quickening his stride so that his longer legs propelled him slightly ahead of me.

"I want this done with." He called back. "Once I get my answers, I….I need to give you some of your own."

I was left jogging up the path after him, fruitlessly asking what he meant.

*****

Manor Mistmantle was a graveyard. It might well have been, with the amount of ghouls and spirits wandering the grounds. The manor itself was severely dilapidated, with only the entry way still remotely structurally sound. The pathway to the imposing front door was mostly clear, only having to dispatch a single hapless zombie to get there safety.

When we forced open the bolted and rusty front door and crept inside, Tobias' face was impassive. He seemed to hold no recognition for this place, for what was supposedly his home.

I lunged forwards and seized his hand in mine, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. He looked at me as if I was a ghost, a phantom of this place come to haunt him.

"I love you." I said, stubbornly. "You're scaring me out of my wits right now, but I love you all the same."

He wrapped me in a near bone-crushing grip in return, running his hands up and down, taking in the scent of my hair, kissing and nuzzling the top of my head. He held me like he'd never see me again, like the end of the world was coming and he wanted to be close to me one last time.

He held me in that musty, collapsing, haunted place with the smell of decay on the wind and the tortured moaning of the undead in the not-so-distance.

He held me like he loved me, nothing I'd ever experienced in my entire life before meeting him. And now, the intensity of his affections made me frightened-irrationally frightened-that I'd never experience again.

We spent a good few moments like that, wrapped up in the embrace of the other. Eventually, we parted, and nodded to one another, an unspoken agreement, a wordless acceptance.

"Are you ready?" I asked as we walked leisurely to a shattered window. The moon was clearly visible above the skyline of the forest, and its wan beams barely illuminating the darkened building.

"As I'll ever be." He held up the ring, allowed the dim rays to shine through its circle. The ancient metal gleamed slightly. For a moment, nothing happened.

The wind picked up. Autumn leaves blew through the open doors and smashed windows. Mice and rats and cockroaches and spiders all fled, bleeding out of the rotting floorboards to race out of the front door. The structure swayed and creaked slightly in the wind, and I reached for the crook of Tobias' arm, worried that either one of us would fall through the floor at any moment.

Then a miniature hurricane seemed to form behind us, a low droning screech in the centre of the room. We turned to find that the dust and cobwebs and detritus of the room was flooding into the centre, coming down from the chandelier above and all corners to create a musty, grey column.

Eventually, the dust took shape, took colour to create a man.

No, not a man.

A monster.

It was hunched over, its body slowly heaving up and down, as if the damn thing drew breath. Tar black hair flowed from the sides of its head, lank and greasy like seaweed. I could see that there was no skin on the top of its head, just chipped and scratched bone. The flesh ended just above the hairline with a rough and jagged edge. It's eyes glowed an unnatural, unholy yellow, and the flesh was completely rotted away, revealing the joints beneath. It wielded dual meat cleavers in claw-like hands, and the remnants of a Gilnean suit hung of its frame here and there.

"My ring... Who holds my family ring... Tilloa, is that you?" It had a voice like sandpaper, like skin being scoured off muscle one layer at an agonising time.

Tobias cried out, heart breaking in his throat; "Brother!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that Stalvan's model has no jaw. This will be remedied in the next chapter.
> 
> I'm also aware that Stalvan should have two swords (or possibly an axe). I don't care.


End file.
